


Making Love

by robinwritesallthethings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Loss of Virginity, Reader-Insert, Romance, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinwritesallthethings/pseuds/robinwritesallthethings
Summary: Carson comes to you with a confession you are more than happy to accept.





	Making Love

The sound of someone knocking on your door wakes you. You yawn, rubbing your eyes and rolling out of bed before stumbling across the room to open it. 

You blink when you see Carson standing in the hallway. He looks agitated, and a spike of panic shoots through you as you realize there must be some sort of emergency. 

“Carson?” you murmur, hurriedly trying to smooth down your disheveled hair and thinking that you should find some clothes. “What happened? I didn't get an alert.” 

“There's no alert,” he explains, his eyes moving over you. He's drinking in the curves of your body, which are on obvious display in the skimpy tank top and panties you sleep in. 

Suddenly, you realize that he's here for personal reasons. Technically, fraternization between team members is allowed, considering the circumstances of your mission to Atlantis, but when you're living in a bubble with only a few hundred people, you have to tread carefully. So you've been dancing around the attraction between you. On your side, at least, it's only been growing each day, but you'd thought his desires had died down by now. 

Apparently, you were wrong. 

“Can I come in, lass?” he asks desperately. You've never seen like him this before. He's normally so calm, but right now, he's completely on edge. 

“Of course, Carson.” He slips in beside you and you lock the console behind him to give you some privacy. 

When you turn, he's already pacing behind you. Finally, he stops and moves forward to take your hands. 

“I'm tired of thinking about the rules, lass,” he confesses shakily. “I want you, more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I came here to ask if you want me too.” 

You smile at him longingly. “You know I do, Carson. I thought you were the one who wasn't interested anymore.” 

He shakes his head adamantly. “I was just trying to do what I thought was right. For all of us here, and for you.” 

“For me?” you wonder. You're not sure what he means. 

“You're more than ten years younger than me, lass. Surely you could find a more suitable man here.” 

Now it's your turn to shake your head. “Oh, Carson. I couldn't imagine anyone more suitable than you.” 

He swallows and takes a deep breath, leaning his forehead against yours as he pulls you closer. “So I can stay?” he breathes, clearly relieved by your words. 

“Yes, Carson,” you assure him. “Please stay.” 

You try to hide how nervous you are as he begins to kiss you. His kisses are wonderful, soft and sweet, but insistent, like every taste just makes him want more. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and stroking. 

Then he hooks his fingers into your panties and lets them drop to the ground, lifting you out of them and steering you back to your bed. 

Your hands tremble as you push his jacket back over his shoulders, then pull his t-shirt over his head. He's not the most handsome or fit man on the base, but he's just the right man for you. You think he's a wonderfully real man. He's brilliant, down-to-earth, and caring, and you can't imagine a better combination. 

He fumbles with his pants. It would probably be faster if he would stop kissing you, but he doesn't. You don't mind. The extra minute it takes for him to remove the rest of his clothes gives you a moment to center yourself. 

Then you're on your back in the bed, your legs spread beneath him while he rests on top of you, his hands peeling away your top, the last slip of fabric between you. You sink your fingers into his thick, dark hair as he begins kissing your neck. You like the way he feels on top of you. The weight is comforting. 

His hands skim up your arms, the reverent touch making trails appear as your skin prickles wherever the slightly rough pads of his fingers have traveled over it. His next kiss is slow and deep. He moans softly when he finally releases your mouth, holding your wrists together over your head. 

You stare up at him for a moment. All the words you want to say stick in your throat when faced with his want. You've been hit on before. You've dated before. Men have made it no secret that they craved your company. It's not that you haven't been wanted before. 

But this is different. Carson looks at you like the world resides in your eyes, and his want isn't so much a want as a need. 

He needs you, and the power of that is staggering. 

He lowers his head and kisses your neck again, his mouth open and hot against the hollow. You arch your back, wanting to be closer to him. 

“When I left for Atlantis,” Carson whispers, “I thought I would always be alone here. I never realized that I'd find someone like you.”

He pauses, but you don't say anything. His words carry the weight of a prayer, and interrupting him feels far too sacrilegious. 

“It's funny,” he continues, even though his tone says it's not funny at all. “On Earth, I was always so afraid of my feelings. I was afraid to be emotional, afraid to get too close. Here, all I want is to be close. To you, lass. I want to be... as close as two people can be.” 

“I want to be close to you too, Carson.”

The repetition of his own words almost feels like cheating, but your head and heart are too full at the moment to make sense of anything else. 

“You're sure?”

He's always such a gentleman. You know he'd stop if you asked him to, even though you're both already naked and tangled up in your sheets. 

You nod, licking your lips. “I'm sure, Carson. I want to feel you.”

It's not a lie. But does he need to know? 

“I haven't made love in a long time,” he admits softly.

It's like he's asking you to absolve him of responsibility, and you're more than happy to. “I don't have any expectations, Carson. I've...” You pause, quivering a little. What if he stops when you tell him? But you force the words out. “I've never made love before.” 

He thinks he knows what you're getting at. “You mean you've only had sex?” 

But he's wrong. “No. No, that's not what I mean.” 

His eyes widen and he rears back just a bit. But you can still feel him against you, so you know that what you've told him has made him even more excited. “You're a...?”

But he can't say it. You have a feeling that if he voices the truth, he'll be too scared to keep going. 

“I am, Carson, but I'm here,” you reassure him. “With you. I wouldn't have invited you in, wouldn't have let you take my clothes off, if I didn't want this. I want it, Carson. I want you. Please. I'm ready.” 

And you really are. He reaches down briefly to feel you, and you can see that he's shocked to find you soaking wet and open for him. 

“Please, Carson.” 

You see the conflict in his eyes. He wants to be gentle, to ease you into it, to give you some kind of foreplay and exploration to make you more comfortable. But it's been so long, and he wants you, and you want him, and then he's pushing inside of you just like you asked him to. 

Your legs rise up to clench against his sides as your hands curl tightly around his shoulders. He watches your lips form a perfect O as you gasp in pleasure, and then he's panting as he starts to thrust, his face buried in your neck once more. 

You find that you can't make any sound at all. You're too overwhelmed by all of the sensations. He's on top of you and around you and inside you. Your toes are curling at the feeling of fullness taking over your body, a feeling that's heightened every time that he moves. 

He's already lost control of himself physically, but his mind is still focused. “Do you need me to stop?” he asks as he starts to thrust faster and harder. 

When you don't answer, he slows, taking the lack of an answer as confirmation. You quickly swallow, and though your voice is barely even a whisper, you know he can hear you because you're so close to each other. 

“Don't stop, Carson.” 

You feel his belly tighten against yours, and then warmth fills you from the inside. He turns his head and presses his lips against your ear, muttering, “Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

The words disappear as his cries become strangled. “Don't be sorry,” you soothe him, your fingers finding his hair again and stroking it gently. “Don't be sorry, Carson. Just let go. Please, just let go.” 

You know what he wants to say. He wants to ask about you, to argue that this was your first time. He thinks you should have been the focus, not him. But you find that you really don't mind. That he's come undone so quickly with you seems like a compliment, somehow. 

He groans and his hips stutter. As he starts to move again, you feel something within you tighten too. “Oh...” He does it once more and your thighs start to shake. “Oh, Carson, I...” 

He's still unraveling, not even entirely able to listen to you, and you realize that now he's operating purely on instinct. 

It works. You clench around him, crying out his name ecstatically as he thrusts into you one last time, holding himself deep inside you as you both cling to each other while you finish. 

You don't know how much time passes before your breathing is even again. When it is, you open your eyes and look up at him. He's smiling, and he lifts his hand to run his fingers gently through your hair. 

“You came,” he observes, laughing quietly. “I didn't think you were going to. I... thought I was too fast.” 

You shake your head at him. “I thought it was perfect, Carson,” you admit. 

He laughs again. “Hardly. I should have done more for you. But it’s been so long, and I've been thinking about you for months, and it just... happened.” 

His face becomes somber once again as he rolls to the side. You follow him, curling up against him and resting your head on his chest. “I really did enjoy it, Carson. Please don't be upset.”

You reach up, cradling his cheek in your hand soothingly, frowning as you realize that he's crying. “Carson, don't cry, please.” You lean up and kiss him, stroking his hair, doing anything you can to make him feel better. “I've never seen you like this,” you worry. “You're so vulnerable.” 

He turns and looks at you. “Because I love you, lass. The thought of screwing this up terrifies me.” 

“Well, I am telling you that you haven't screwed anything up, Carson,” you remind him. “I'm happy. And I love you too.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes, Carson. Now, please, just rest, all right? I promise we can try again in the morning.” 

He chuckles and pulls you close, rubbing his nose against yours playfully. “I'd like that,” he agrees. “I'll do better next time. I promise.” 

You giggle. “You don't have to do better, Carson. You were wonderful just the way you were. You want me, and you love me, and that's all that matters.” 

“Then I promise I will always want and love you, lass,” he pledges. 

“I'll always want and love you too, Carson.” 

He holds you close and lets you fall asleep in his arms. You think that you'll dream of him until you wake up.


End file.
